


your parallel universe or mine?

by onthelasttrain



Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Gen, also not particularly neal friendly either, canon compliant jdronica, metions of past abuse, post heathers canon, so like... it's toxic, the timeline is whatever i want it to be and the s7 finale didn't happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:09:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27251725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onthelasttrain/pseuds/onthelasttrain
Summary: When a young girl appears in Storybrooke, looking beaten and broken and completely lost, Emma is immediately drawn to her, sensing unspoken sadness beneath her skin. Emma takes it upon herself to get the girl home, and the more she gets to know her, she finds a kindred spirit in her, as well as a chance for Emma to be the person she herself needed so long ago.When Veronica finds herself in Storybrooke, Maine, it's with fresh burns and scars all over her body and heart she knows may never heal. But the longer she stays in this strange town, and the closer she grows with the Sheriff, the more she believes she might be able to patch up her past after all.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan, Emma Swan & Veronica Sawyer, Jason "J. D." Dean/Veronica Sawyer
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	your parallel universe or mine?

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the Heathers/OUAT crossover that no-one wanted but everyone got. So I want to preface that this is based off the musical version of Heathers, not the movie. If you are a fan of the movie and want to read it, you're more than welcome to, but I wanted to preface it with this.
> 
> Also like I said in the tags, I say "screw the end of s7 time travel and united realms thing". Because I dislike it.

The diner is half-full when Emma pushes open the door, the little tinkling bell barely audible above the evening chatter, as well as the patron greeting her good morning. Truth be told, she wasn’t planning on getting dinner from Granny’s today. She had started seeing that maybe, maybe, Killian’s points that eating out for dinner for half the week is not economically a very sound plan, nor is it actually healthy. And today in particular, her house was so warm and the idea of sitting on the couch while he makes his famous omelettes and watching a feel-good movie with her daughter really did sound like a nice way to spend her evening. So no, she wasn’t actually planning on going to Granny’s.

The only problem is that she happens to have a very ambitious 6 year old who decided she was old enough and big enough to not just make dinner for herself, but also for the cat. And for some reason, she had concluded that cats must like Coco Pops. Only problem is that the Coco Pops are on the highest shelf, which she had climbed up to like it was the rigging on her father’s pirate ship. Only problem is that it isn’t, and Hope isn’t exactly blessed in the grace department. And as everyone knows, a panicked mini Saviour plus falling plus uncontrollable magic plus electronics nearby is a recipe for disaster.

Which is why she came knocking on Emma's bedroom door and explained from behind her hands that the oven was wasn’t working and, after some questioning, she may have sort of kind of accidentally sent a magic bolt heading straight for it. And as it turns out, that panicked her so much that everything else went with it. As was punctuated by the lightbulb in her room going off as Hope confessed everything and pleaded with her to believe that she didn’t really mean it.

Ah, Storybrooke. Never a dull moment.

Emma can’t be mad at Hope. Not really, since she was trying to impress her and it was something that can be easily fixed when they get home. She didn’t mean anything bad by it anyway. And… well, she gets some of Granny’s fries out of this deal. Even Killian agrees that their new home-cooked dinners can wait until Monday.

“Hey guys,” Ruby chirps, her dark hair pulled into a braid. Seeing her old friend is a bit of a surprise to Emma, and a welcome one. Not that Ruby never visits, but she’s dividing her time more unevenly lately, spending most of her time in Oz. “What can I get you?”

“Didn’t know you’d flown back in,” she comments.

“Ah well, Granny wants me to train up some new recruits,” she explains with a shrug. “Lots of kids looking part time jobs here, and since Granny’s going into retirement soon, she kind of needs all the help she can get.” She gestures to behind them, where some kids Emma recognises from the high school are milling around wearing Granny’s aprons, all with varying degrees of enthusiasm. She even spots Dorothy, a pencil tucked behind her ear, taking an order from the dwarves.

“Well look at that,” Emma mumbles. “Okay, so I’ll get cheeseburger, side of onion rings and a Coke.”

“And the grilled salmon, please. With a side of potato cakes if you don’t mind,” Killian adds. “Although if it weren’t for this one-” He pokes Hope in the belly. “We’d be eating our boiled mackerel, wouldn’t we?”

Emma hides her laugh behind her hands as Hope nods, pulling a face the moment Killian’s eyes leave hers.

“And I want a hot dog,” Hope adds. “With loads of fries. Please,” she adds after Killian gives her a look. He raises an eyebrow at her and she rolls her eyes. “And a fruit salad for dessert. Please.”

“I’ll see if I can cover the fruit in chocolate for you,” Ruby adds with a wink, swirling around before Killian can protest. One of the most important parts of parenting is knowing where to pick your battles, and one of the most amusing parts of parenting is watching Killian try to pick all of them and failing miserably. Who know that the dastardly Captain Hook, terror of the high seas, would have met his match in the form of a six year old?

Her point is proven when Hope slides one of the colouring pages in front of him, green eyes wide, and he can do nothing but grin and pick up a crayon. Emma smiles as she takes a sip of her freshly-delivered Coke, making a mental note to bring this up to Killian later. If they didn’t eat out, how do they get perfect family moments like that.

But, as with all things in Storybrooke, their perfect evening doesn’t last. Emma has barely finished her bacon when the door swings open, and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up even without turning around. She’s been in this diner enough to know that door, and to know that when it’s opened like that, it means trouble.

So she’s somewhat unsurprised when she turns to see Alice panting heavily and her eyes wide, her mouth moving a mile a minute.

“Emma! Thank goodness I caught you! You see Robin and I were walking home from work, and just as we were walking, a girl fell out in front of us! And she doesn’t look okay. She’s really, really confused I think. And scared. I think she was scared. All frowny face. But not quite angry frowning, I don’t think. I don’t know it was five whole minutes ago, I can’t remember. Point is; new girl in town appeared out of nowhere and we need help!”

“Okay,” Emma says, sifting through the load of information Alice just threw her way. “A girl? And you say she just fell out in front of you.”

“Yeah. Like one minute she wasn’t there and the next minute she was. Just appeared in the middle of the road.”

“Okay.” She eases herself off her chair and picks up her coat, despite Hope’s puppy eyes. “Could you lead me back there?”

“Uh-huh. Robin’s with her now anyway.” She sticks her hands in her pockets and rocks back and forth on her heels. “I don’t think she’s really bad. I think she’s scared.”

“Well I’ll be the judge of that.” She turns to Killian, a silent apology in her eyes. “You think you can hold down the fort while I play Sheriff?”

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” he asks. “I know you can take care of yourself but-”

“I’ll be okay,” she replies. “Not like I’ll be alone. I’ll call my dad in too.”

“Okay,” he says. He gives her a small, one that feels made just for her. “I’ll make your order to go and heat it up later for you.”

“You’re a Saviour.” She pecks his lips quickly before moving to Hope, who doesn’t even bother hiding her scowl. “Hey, baby. I just need to go sort this out and then I’ll be right back, okay?” Her face doesn’t budge. If there’s one thing Hope took from both of them, it’s that petty stubbornness. Feeling Alice hovering behind her, Emma takes Hope’s hand softly, running her thumb over her knuckles. “Hey kid. I know we were meant to play today. I just need to go be Sheriff for five minutes and then you and me can play all night. Deal?”

Hope shifts at that, her eyes moving up to meet Emma’s.

“We can watch Super Bugs?” she asks.

There are few things Emma dislikes more than Super Bugs. It only has one redeeming factor; how much Hope loves it. And she really, really needs to go.

“All day long,” she promises. “Sound like a plan?”

Hope relents at that, the promise of Super Bugs winning her over, and Emma drops a kiss to her head before letting Alice lead her out of the diner, following her down to where this mysterious appearing girl is.

As she and Alice run through the streets and out of the main street, stores and bars slowly giving way to houses which grow fewer and further between. Emma has never been more grateful for the amount of running she’s done in the past years. Alice must have done her fair share too; the girl barely breaks a sweat as she leads her in the direction of the town line, the pavement giving way to the forest floor. It’s there that they come into view, Robin standing on the side of the road, her hands half extended towards a young, freaked out girl. More than freaked out, Emma thinks as she slows to a halt. She looks like she’s been to hell and back; her face streaked with thick black dust, her jacket torn open and from the look of it, she’s struggling to hold herself up. And that's not even mentioning her eyes, which hold far too much for someone her age.

“Who’s this?” she demands, her voice weak and unsteady. She can’t be more than eighteen. Up close, Emma sees the blood across her face, mixing with the dirt, and the way her shirt and jacket both seem badly torn and burned on the edges, and her heart clenches.

“This is Emma,” Robin says quietly. She’s handling it well enough, despite being completely out of her depth. “She can help, she’s a friend of ours.”

“She’s right kid,” Emma says. “Thanks girls, I’ve got it from here.” The girl doesn’t move as Alice and Robin leave, the two casting last looks at her and Alice mumbling thanks to Emma. Emma is ready to grab her in case she runs, but to her surprise, she doesn’t. She just stands there, arms wrapped around herself and her eyes darting everywhere. “Okay, kid. I take it you’re a little confused.”

“A little?” she asks. Her mouth opens and closes wordlessly, hunting for the right questions. “Where am I?”

“Good first question,” she says. “You’re in Storybrooke, Maine.”

“I’m in where?” she asks. She almost laughs. “How the hell am I in Maine?”

“This happens around here more often than you’d think.” She goes to ask her where she’s from, but a car pulling up behind her distracts her. Her dad gets out of the Sheriff’s car, looking to Emma for answers. Unfortunately for him, she’s yet to get anywhere. The girl on the other hand sees the car, probably taking in the word painted on the side, and tenses even more than she already is.

“You guys are cops?” she asks, her voice shooting up.

“Yeah, we’re cops,” Emma says, wincing. The girl’s eyes are wild and frantic as they meet hers, and Emma worries that she might snap and bolt in the other direction. “But it’s okay, you’re not in trouble. We just want to get you home.” She breathes in and takes another step towards her, and after a moment, moves to block her dad from her view. She lowers her voice and her fingers brush against the girl’s. She flinches at the touch, and Emma takes the message. “Hey, you can trust me, okay? I don’t know where you came from, but we can get you back there. I promise.” As the girl dips her head she does the same, trying to get a look at her. “But I can only do that if you co-operate with us here, okay?”

It’s either seconds or years before the girl nods and lets out a weak ‘okay’.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” She looks over her shoulder, to where her dad is sitting on the hood of the car, his eyes not leaving Emma. She looks back at the girl, this fragile looking young girl whom she doesn’t know, but she knows she’s been through some shit. She can’t even imagine everything that led her here, but she can imagine how she must be feeling. “Do you have a name? Cause I’d like to call you something other than kid.”

She nods and lifts her head so that her eyes meet Emma’s.

“It’s Veronica,” she says. “Veronica Sawyer.”

And Emma grins.

“Good to meet you, Veronica Sawyer.”

Veronica doesn’t say a word to either of them the whole ride to the station. But she isn’t rude. She’s not like other teenagers Emma has picked up, who sit in the back with their arms tightly folded glaring daggers into the back of Emma’s head, nor is she throwing out sarcastic remarks in the hopes that one or both eventually snaps. Instead, she’s quiet, sitting there with her eyes trained on one particular spot, her grip on herself not once slipping or loosening. More than anything else she looks exhausted; the kind of exhaustion that seeps into your bones and stays there and the kind you can’t get rid of with a quick power nap or a cup of coffee. An ache builds in Emma’s chest the more she looks at her, past memories flickering up against the present, and so she tears her own eyes off her and looks out at the road instead, not feeling settled until Storybrooke Main Street is in sight.

As they pull up outside the Sheriff Station, Veronica visibly pales; her already white skin turning practically translucent. Her legs barely hold her up as she stumbles out of the car, her knuckles white as she grips the door, yet she flinches away from Emma’s hand when she reaches for her.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Emma tells her softly. She doesn’t move any closer, not when Veronica looks so damn scared, but she tries to reassure her anyway. “No one’s going to hurt you. I promise. We just want to get you back home as soon as we can. Wherever home is.” Veronica doesn’t budge, her eyes trained on the station. The worst part of all this is Emma can’t blame her. It would be so much easier if she could. “You can hold my gun if it makes you-”

“No!” That has to be the strongest Emma has heard the girl’s voice since they met. There’s so much force in it that it actually takes her back a little.

“Okay,” she replies after a while. “Not a fan of guns. Me neither.”

“S-sorry,” she mumbles. She takes a shaky step out and closes the door behind her, swallowing thickly. “I just…. Sorry.”

“It’s okay kid.” Veronica nods, the gesture tiny. Emma takes in a deep breath, looking back over at the station, her father already inside. Veronica must be thinking the same thing she is because she takes a step closer to her and waves in that direction.

“I guess we don’t have all day, do we?”

Just like in the car, the sight of Veronica sitting at the table in the station brings back memories Emma would rather forget. Maybe she’s younger than Emma thought she was, because she looks so vulnerable just sitting there, so lost. She wonders for a second if she might have to excuse herself from this and leave her dad to deal with her. He’s got all that charming warmth anyway. Less prickly than she is. He’s probably better suited to the task than Emma is.

But something in her freaks out at that idea. Somehow she just knows she wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if she left this girl’s side, even if it was with her father.

“Okay, here’s your coffee,” she says, placing the cup in front of her.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice breaking. As she sits down across from her, Emma shares a look with her dad, glad to see that they’re at least on the same page here. “Okay… so getting the obvious out of the way, you aren’t from here.”

“No,” she replies with a shake of her head. “I-I mean you said I was in Maine, right? We’re in Maine? But I was in Ohio! How did I get from Ohio to Maine?”

“Ohio?” Charming echoes, realisation dawning on him in time with Emma. “You mean you’re from-you’re from America? From here?”

“I-yes?” she replies, blinking helplessly. “Is…. Is that optional?” David takes Emma’s arm and turns them both around, glancing at Veronica with anxiety evident in his eyes.

“Emma she’s from here,” he states quietly. “From here. Not the Enchanted Forest or Neverland or anywhere else. She’s from this realm.”

“Not from the where now?” Veronica asks. She looks from Emma to David, hoping one can give her an answer. Her mouth hangs open like she’s on the verge of laughing. “Did you just say the Enchanted Forest?”

“You really need to work on your subterfuge,” Emma mutters to him. She leans on the table, looking over at Veronica, trying to find some way to put all this. It’s one thing she just appeared in Storybrooke, but if she’s from the Land Without Magic, that means she has no idea about other realms. And there’s only so much a person can take. “It’s a long story. And it’s not important right now. What’s important is getting you home.”

“Do you remember what you were doing before you got here?” David asks. “Anything at all?”

Veronica lets out a long, ragged breath, her fingers tapping noiselessly on the table. Just as Emma wonders if she should ask again, she speaks, her voice impossibly far away.

“Yeah, I do,” she answers. She takes a long drink of her coffee and squares her shoulders, taking a deep breath in. Emma clenches her fist under the table. She doesn’t know what version of events they’re about to hear, but she’d wager there’s some ugliness that she isn’t going to share. Maybe it has something to do with the dust and blood smeared across her face. “I was at the school. We were having a pep rally. And I had been talking to my friends and then I just had to go… be by myself for a little bit. So I was going home. Then the rain got really heavy and… and I couldn’t see for a minute. I think I tripped over something- no I stepped in a puddle. Then next thing I know… I’m here. And those two girls are talking to me.” Her shoulders shake, her hand presses to her mouth as a whimper escapes her, and Emma is overcome with an urge to go and sit with her and hold her. It’s not maternal or anything close. It’s something else; something that comes from deep within her.

“And… all that?” David asks gently. “Did you get all that just from coming here?”

“What?” she asks before realising. She looks down at herself, like she’s seeing the torn clothes for the first time and reaches up to touch her face, looking at her fingers coming away stained black. “Yeah. Must have been from coming here.”

She’s lying. Emma can tell. But she can also tell she has good reason to do so, so she decides not to press.

“But you’ve never heard of this place before?” David asks her. “Ever?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “No offence but what kind of town is called Storybrooke?”

“We’re not on most maps,” Emma says before leaning back in her chair. This is a tricky one. Everyone else who’s shown up here in the past has done so with some chunk of their memories missing and being from a fairy-tale. Sometimes needing help, sometimes with a plan to destroy them. But Veronica doesn’t fit into any of those categories. She’s from this realm, she remembers how she got here, and while she could be wrong, Emma doesn’t think she’s here to hurt any of them. So where do they go from here? Maybe it is as simple as her getting in the bug and driving her back home, but that doesn’t sit right with Emma. How could someone from the Land Without Magic get here? What-or who-could have sent her here?

Her phone buzzing interrupts Emma’s thoughts, cutting it off before she can go full Sherlock Holmes. Maybe in this case, having Sherlock Holmes around wouldn’t be such a bad thing, but they’re unfortunately yet to come across him. She pulls out her phone, finding only two texts from Killian; one showing a picture of her wrapped up dinner and the other asking if she’s okay.

“Who’s that?”

“It’s just Killian,” Emma explains, sending a quick ‘I’ll fill you in later’ as a reply.

“What is that?” Veronica asks. Emma’s head snaps up, having not expected her to say anything. Little rude of her maybe, but she didn’t exactly strike her as the chatty type, at least not in the current circumstances. Veronica presses her fist into her hand, nodding at Emma’s phone. “Sorry. I’ve just never seen something like that before.”

“This?” Emma asks. “It’s just my phone.”

“That’s a phone?” she asks, eyes going wide. This is the closest to a normal teenager she’s sounded since Emma met her. Far less broken. Less scared. There’s even a hint of a smile on her face. “But it’s tiny. There’s no antenna. I didn’t know they made phones that small! Where are the buttons on it?”

With every new word, Emma’s mouth falls open more and more, and she turns to David to see him come to the same realisation. Like with most things in Storybrooke, this might be a bit more complicated than she thought.

“Veronica,” she begins slowly. “What year is it?”

“What?” the other girls asks.

“Humour me,” Emma says. “What’s the date? Before you got here, what date was it?”

Veronica looks from Emma to David as though she’s expecting one or the other to laugh and say it’s a joke. When neither one says it, she tells him, confusion creasing her face even more than it had before.

“November 25th,” she says. “1989.”

******

Emma calls it a night not long after that, in part due to her own helplessness and partly due to Veronica’s. She has no idea what the poor girl went through before she came here, but she does know that having her sit in a police station with questions she can’t answer isn’t helping. Anyone can see how shattered she is; the shadows under her eyes becoming more pronounced and her eyes getting heavier no matter how much she tries to hide it. What she needs is a nap, a shower, and a good breakfast. So Emma stands up, puts her jacket on and instructs Veronica to do the same, despite her father’s mild, hushed protests.

“Emma,” he whispers as he follows her to the door. “Are you sure about this, I mean we still know nothing about her.”

“Yeah and she know nothing about us,” she tells him firmly, taking a look back at her. “She clearly has no idea how she got here or what happened. Plus, look at her. Leaving it a few hours won’t hurt anyone.” David’s eyes follow hers, his face softening almost as soon as he looks over at her. Maybe there’s something in her that reminds him of what he once was; lost and running and scared, stuck in an unfamiliar place. Or maybe she reminds him of what Emma was too. Or maybe he’s just kind. Whatever the reason, he nods at her.

“Okay,” he says. “You’re right. But the question is now what do we do with her?”

“Don’t worry,” she replies, grabbing the car keys. “I have the whole thing worked out.”

The Sheriff’s car pulls up outside Granny’s inn, Veronica sitting in the backseat. Just as she asked, Killian is already sitting on the front steps, although she doesn’t remember asking him to bring their daughter. Nevertheless, Hope jumps up the minute she sees the car, Killian’s hand around her waist the only thing stopping her from fully jumping on Emma.

“Well hello little miss,” she says as she approaches. “Surely at this point you should at least have your PJs on.”

“I heard you were going to Granny’s,” she says, her smile soft and warm and all butter-wouldn’t-melt. “And I missed you tonight.” Emma shakes her head and looks at Killian, who only offers a helpless shrug.

“She can be very persuasive when she wants to be, love,” he tells her.

“I’m sure she can.” Killian’s eyes move behind her, as do Hope’s, and Emma turns too, holding her hand out. After a moment’s hesitation, Veronica steps forwards, although her hands remain to herself. Emma relates. “Killian, this is Veronica. She’s going to be hanging around town for a while. Veronica, this is my husband Killian, and my daughter Hope.”

“Hi,” she says quietly, shifting nervously on her feet.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, love,” Killian tells her. “Come on in. They’ve got your room all ready for you.”

“My-my room?” Veronica asks.

“Yeah, your room,” Emma explains. “You think we were just going to let you sleep in the woods? Or the Sheriff station? No way, kid. We pulled some strings and put you up at Granny’s until we can send you back home.”

“Oh,” she says. She shakes her head slightly, the movement swift and sharp. “No, no that’s okay. I mean really, you don’t have to go all out for me. I can find somewhere else.”

“Oh yeah with what money?” Emma asks, and that stops her in her tracks. She takes another step closer to her then, her hand slowly and gently coming to rest on her arm. Veronica stiffens, but she doesn’t pull away. “It’s okay, Veronica. You need a place to stay for a while and I’d feel a lot safer with you being here than anywhere else. And it’s a really nice place too. Granny will take good care of you.” She still looks unsure though, her hand fidgeting at her side. “Besides, it’s not like we’re paying. I’m the Sheriff, so this is coming out of taxpayer dollars, okay?” She runs her hand up and down her arm. “It’s just for a while until we get you back home.”

Emma holds her breath and after what feels like a lifetime, Veronica nods.

The gruffness they’ve come to expect from Granny is completely gone when she greets Veronica; acting more like her fairy-tale counterpart than the Granny she knows and loves. She’s all rosy cheeked smiles and gentle eyes, welcoming her like she’s one of their own.

Actually, scratch that. She wouldn’t be so polite to her own family.

Emma follows them as she leads Veronica to her room, Killian and Hope in tow. The latter seems more than a little disappointed that the attention is focussed on someone else for a change but manages to keep it to herself. Killian is a great distraction for her anyway and Emma does have a sneaking suspicion that her promise of Super Bugs is still in Hope’s mind.

“And here we are,” Granny says, unlocking the door. It’s a very nice room; double bed, fresh sheets, bathroom attached, cookies on the table and a view of the sea just to name a few. It’s lovely, and she’s glad of it, but it’s also far more extravagant than what she paid for. So much so that she has to take the old woman by the elbow and pull her aside.

“Granny,” she says in a low voice. “This is…. I only paid for a single room. I told Killian to-”

“Now you stop right there,” she tells her strongly. She looks back over at Veronica, engaged in some sort of conversation with Killian, and there’s a faraway look in her eyes that Emma can’t place. “I heard what you told Hook about that girl, and from the looks of her, a big bed and some treats is the least we can do. Besides,” she adds with a shrug. “Not like anyone was using it.”

“Granny. You’re an angel,” Emma sighs before crossing back over to Veronica. She keeps looking around the place, her gaze never stopping on one thing, like she’s expecting everything to blink out of existence. Emma nods at her and places her hand on her shoulder. “This okay for you, kid?”

“Yeah, it’s great. Thank you, Emma,” she says. “Thank you for… you know, all of this, you didn’t have to-”

“No problem,” she says. “You get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll meet up with everyone and try to work all this out.” She nods, but her face falls as she does so, what little light there was fading from her eyes, and Emma gives her shoulder a squeeze. “Hey, don’t worry. We’ll get you back home before you know it. Trust me, it’s what we do here.”

She doesn’t get an answer, at least not in the traditional sense. Veronica doesn’t give her a response or anything like that. All she gets is a nod and, after a pause, she reaches out and squeezes her hand. And that means more than anything she could say.

After getting Veronica settled and another two confirmations that she’ll be okay, plus another thank you to Granny, Emma heads home, a tired Hope on her hip and Killian’s arm around her waist.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Killian asks when they’re home, handing her a coffee. She sits on the couch, Hope sprawled across her lap and fast asleep with Emma running her fingers gently through her dark hair.

“Well, she’s not from the Enchanted Forest,” Emma says. “Or the Wish Realm. Or Neverland or anywhere like that. She’s from Ohio.” He frowns slightly, unused to her map, and she has to grin. “That’s sixteen hours from here. Not factoring in bathroom breaks.”

“She’s from the Land Without Magic?” he asks, his eyes widening. “How can she have gotten here without magic?”

“That’s not the only thing,” she says. She half turns towards him, mindful of Hope on her lap. “She thought it was 1989, Killian. She might be from this world but she’s not from this time.”

“You think she time travelled here?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs. “That’s the thing… I don’t know. I don’t know how or why she could have come here.” She runs her finger around Hope’s back, tracing invisible patterns, and lets out a sigh. “She seemed really scared, Killian.” He hums in agreement, his hand wound tightly around his mug.

“You like her.” he asks. States. It takes Emma by surprise either way; her head snapping up. It’s so much that she accidentally jostles Hope; the little girl shifts on her lap and murmurs something incoherent before settling back down, her breath ruffling her hair.

“What?” is all she can say.

“Just… a mysterious girl shows up out of nowhere, we have no idea who she is, and your gut reaction is to put her up in a nice room at Granny’s and pay for her meals,” he says. “Just seems like you care for her.”

“I barely know her,” Emma mumbles in a reply, before her lips turn up into a smirk. “Anyway, it was the honourable thing to do, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was.” He presses a kiss to her hair, causing a faint warmth to spread over her cheeks. He plays with her hair, eyeing her knowingly. Open book, of course. “There’s something else, isn’t there? Something else about Veronica?”

Emma sighs, looking into her coffee. Of course there is. She felt it the minute she looked at Veronica. She may be older than Emma was, and she may look different, but when Emma saw her in the woods, in the back of their car, at the station, all she could see was herself. The look she saw in Veronica’s eyes is one she knows all too well. The look you have when you’re let down, badly. When you were floating on cloud nine one minute ago but now you’re laying on the concrete, broken and bleeding in ways no-one can see but you. She knows it. She’s had it. They might look different, and Veronica may be a little older than she was, but that was _her_ , years and years ago. Standing in a train station, hearing that Neal was gone, taking the future they had planned with him. She doesn’t know what Veronica’s story is, but she’d bet there’s overlap there. And looking at her, she felt every moment of that heartbreak all over again. The second Emma saw Veronica’s eyes, a connection was forged for her, one she can’t shake even if she wanted to. Because even trying to walk away feels like she’s not better than everyone else who let her down in her life. And she’d rather die than be that person.

But she doesn’t feel like saying all of that right now. And Killian knows anyway, he always knows. So she takes a deep breath and says,

“She’s just a kid. And she needs someone to help.” She blinks then, only to find fresh tears in her eyes. “How can I resist?” Killian nods, all understanding eyes and gentle smiles, and kisses her again before offering to carry Hope up to bed, agreeing to meet Emma in their room once he's done. She dumps her coffee down the sink and leans against the counter, her eyes closed tightly as her mind once again drifts to Veronica. Her hand twitches for a moment, reaching for the phone to call her, but she stops herself just in time. She might be the Sheriff and the Saviour, but one thing she isn't her mother, so she'll have to dampen that instinct and focus on the task at hand; getting Veronica Sawyer home.

Veronica Sawyer. While she can't place it, there's something so familiar about that name.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos make a happy writer :)


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